Page 19 of The Last Special Thing

While she didn’t want to go any further, she wouldn’t mind continuing what they were doing in private.

His eyes glanced at his bedroom door.

“Too forward?” she asked, eyes scrunched in surprise, thinking about where his hands had been.

“No, it’s not that. Well, come on.” He pushed off the couch and extended his hand. Her fingers clasped his, and he led the way to his room.

Inside, Amelia understood his hesitation. There wasn’t a bed. There were a few boxes of clothes and a sunset colored drum set, but no bed.

“So the drums are more important than the bed?”

“I mean, I have an air mattress that I get out, but yeah, basically.” He combed his fingers through his wavy hair and gave a slanted smile.

Amelia moved to the small stool behind the drums. She spied the sticks between the drums and slid them out. She rubbed her lips together and knocked the sticks around offbeat, eliciting a laugh from Art.

“I’ll show you.” He gestured for her to stand up.

He snuck around her, sat on the stool, and pulled her onto his lap. With his arms stretched around her, he took the drumsticks and started a ruckus of bangs, chimes, and booms. What began as a joke turned serious as he found a rhythm.

Amelia tapped her fingers against her jeans to match the pattern. She knew it from somewhere.

“Summer Skin? Death Cab for Cutie.”

“Oh, Amelia, who knew I would find my favorite person when I moved here?”

He stopped playing and wrapped his arms around her. He interlaced his fingers together, holding her against him.

“Do you have a band?” She leaned against his chest.

“Ah, yes. Honey Cat.” His breath against her ear sent shivers down her spine.

“Honey Cat? Why?”

“Who remembers? But it sticks with you, right?” He gave a ba-dum-tss with his drumsticks.

She rolled her eyes before kissing his cheek and sliding off his lap.

“Does your band ever play?”

“We’re working on getting bookings now. The rest of the guys live in San Diego, which is why I moved out here. Plus, best of all, now I've met you.”

“What good fortune you have.” She glanced at her watch. It was past eleven.

“I should go.” The guilt of her mom waiting up for her seeped in. Lauren was up at 5 AM to start her day and was an advocate of beauty sleep. Even leaving now, Amelia was chipping into Lauren’s sleep schedule.

“Wait, let me give you something.” He scrambled to his feet and rummaged through one of the clothing boxes. He lifted out a rubber bracelet and handed it to her.

She rubbed her thumb across a logo of a cat licking honey off its hands. “Clever.”

“Now you have to come to our first show. You’re an official fan.”

She liked the sound of that.

He led her out of the apartment and to her car. After two years, Weston and Amelia had slipped into saying their goodbyes in their bedrooms.

Instead of getting in, Amelia arched her back against the car. The salty air blew past, and she didn’t know if it was from the wind or the proximity to him that raised the goosebumps on her skin. He put his thumb underneath her chin and lifted it.

“I’d like to take you out on a date sometime,” he said before kissing her—another perfect, soft kiss.